Page 2 of Dirty Game

I should keep my eyes on the screen, on the numbers, on the safe world of mathematics where everything has rules.

But the sound comes again, followed by a voice I recognize.

Varrick's voice, low and measured, asking a question I can't quite make out.

My feet move without permission, silent on the thick carpet.

The penthouse is a maze of shadows at this hour, but I've memorized every corner in my three weeks here.

Survival means knowing your cage.

His private office door is cracked open—not an accident, nothing Varrick does is accidental.

Golden light spills through the gap, and with it comes the copper scent of blood.

Somuch blood.

I peer through the crack, and my breath stops.

Philip Denton kneels on plastic sheeting, his expensive suit ruined, face swollen beyond recognition.

Varrick stands in front of him, shirtsleeves rolled up, blood speckling his forearms like a Jackson Pollock painting.

But it's the control that makes me unable to look away.

Every movement is precise, economical.

He's not angry.

He's not enjoying this.

He's just... working.

"Last chance, Phillip." Varrick's voice is soft, almost gentle. "The account numbers. All of them."

Phillip spits blood. "I told you?—"

The sound of impact is wet, specific.

Not a fist this time. Something harder.

Phillip makes that choking noise again, and I see the brass knuckles glinting on Varrick's right hand.

"You told me about three accounts," Varrick says, wiping blood from his jaw with the back of his wrist. "But seven hundred thousand dollars doesn't move through three accounts. Not without leaving a trail. And you're too smart to leave a trail, aren't you, Phillip?"

Seven hundred thousand. My seven hundred thousand. The number I found.

I must make a sound—a gasp, a breath, something—because Varrick's head turns toward the door.

Our eyes meet through the crack, and I see something flash across his face.

Not anger. Not even surprise. Almost like he expected me to see him.

"Jensen," he says, not looking away from me. "Take Phillip downstairs. We'll continue this later."

"Boss?" Jensen, a mountain of a man I've seen stationed outside Varrick's office, appears in my view.

"Downstairs. Now."